


Molten

by roundandtalented



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Drabble, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 15:59:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19232374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roundandtalented/pseuds/roundandtalented
Summary: He's almost fussing for the sake of fussing. Making up excuses for reasons to have his hands on you, and it makes your pusher beat wildly in your chest to even think that still. That he's actually keen to put hands on you blows your pan on the daily.





	Molten

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elendraug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendraug/gifts).



"Well I dunno, it looked fine t'me." You shrug, setting back down the book you'd _thought_ sounded right up Karkat's alley, but apparently was too fuckin' basic for his tastes. The bastard is picky with his romance. The side table next to the couch has a stack already- Kar's read most of what you have to offer him from your library, and trying to find something that interests him when he's all wound up like this tends to be a struggle.  
You didn't even have a busy evening or anything, it's probably just something on his mind that got him a little worked up. An internet squabble over film reviews or something perhaps. You're not going to pry unless he drops harder hints that he wants you to. Until then, you'll just let him huff and puff and-

"You know, maybe if you could actually fucking see what you're doing instead of stumbling through life thinking a smudge for a face was normal!"  
He grabs your glasses right off your face and the squinting begins with minimal protest coming from you. You can't see for shit without them, but he _is_ right. They're covered in smudges and dust. Not that you can see much of anything now aside from blurs of colour and his soft, grumpy shape in front of you, but yeah they absolutely needed a cleaning. 

He's just standing between your legs while you sit, patiently waiting as he fusses. Personal space used to be a big issue with him, but not so much now. He's comfortable getting all up in your face just to inform you theres a flyaway in your perfectly sculted hair. Trolls used to say _you_ were the obsessive one. HUH.

Karkat scrubs at the lenses of your glasses with the soft inside of his sweater, careful not to damage them, but trying to clear them of dirt and mess while bitching at you. It's a pretty usual situation you seem to get yourself into lately. Karkat ranting while you fondly regard his tantrum, though this is a little lowkey on the tantrum scale.

"I swear, your hair can be pristine but the rest of you is just a walking disaster. How do you cook like this? How do _you_ read anything?"  
You just smile, content to watch him fuss because he's not actually grumpy, that's just how he is. This is his version of fond hassling, you've learned, and it's kind of endearing when you're the focus of it. You like the attention, what can you say?

Usually it's just a few moments of grumbling before he wanders off, but this time when he slides your glasses back over your earfins, settling it on your nose oh-so carefully, he doesn't back off.  
Instead, totally in focus and no longer speckled with dust on your lenses, he starts at your scarf.

"It's like a thousand degrees in here and you're still wearing a scarf like it's some sort of fashion statement- newsflash, asshole, we're at hive and I'm the only other troll here. And I give exactly zero fucks about fashion." But there he is, adjusting it, making it sit all nice on your neck rather than removing it or anything like his words might imply he wants to do.

He's almost fussing for the sake of fussing. Making up excuses for reasons to have his hands on you, and it makes your pusher beat wildly in your chest to even think that still. That he's actually keen to put hands on you blows your pan on the daily.

You're maybe a little dense when it comes to this shit- you know it, you own it, occasionally. But you think you've figured out what he's up to this time. He doesn't want to have to _ask_ for your attentions, so he's just fussing until you start returning the favor.  
Time to do a bit of your own hassling, then. 

"Says _you_ , in your big ass sweater, Kar." You straighten out the folds on his sweater, similar to how he's doing to you now. But instead of continuing, you reach up to his hair, sink your fingers into it right behind his ear and twirl.  
It's your purr you hear first when you watch his eyelids go half mast. 

"You got messy hair like y'never comb it," Back and forth you drag your fingers over his scalp as he leans into you, teeth caught on his lower lip, "But it's just your curls an' it's kinda cute."

The little hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth makes you melt every time. Not quite a full one, just enough that you know he's comfortable and gave him what he wanted. And fuck, you sure do love giving him your attention, even if he won't outright ask for it. 

"Glad you like me being a disaster," He admits, and it's the tender, honest sort of tone in his voice that gets you- that takes your cold pusher and heats it right up til it's molten, just for him.

"You've always had your shit t'gether more than I ever have." You get your other hand on his sweater and tug him into your lap, guiding his mouth to yours with the hand in his hair.

 _Feeling_ the way he purrs when he gets what he wants without having to ask is ever so rewarding. And the way he kisses you makes you fuckin stupid- all slow and careful, as if a big seadweller like you could break should he happen to kiss you a little too hard.  
For him, you think you'd probably let yourself break. Not that he'd ever ask that of you.


End file.
